


grateful

by garlicbreadcutie



Series: Fixing the Russo's fuck ups. [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, i just noticed i mistagged this, pure domestic fluff, sorry y'all, this is just fluff, with a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garlicbreadcutie/pseuds/garlicbreadcutie
Summary: The King of New Asgard has a tough decision to make. Who better to console him than his queen?





	grateful

**Author's Note:**

> The Russo's got my boy all the way fucked up. I love the idea of a chubby Thor, but a chubby Thor that isn't the butt of a joke.

“I went for the head.”

 

Words from five years ago chimed in Thor’s head like a gong, rousing him from sleep. With a groan, he cracked his good eye and rose from his bed. Five years ago, he may have gone back to sleep and spent the day wallowing in guilt, but the King of New Asgard had more important things to tend to.

 

He rose from bed, joints cracking as he did. It was a miracle he didn’t wake the woman slumbering on the other side of the bed. Brunnhilde looked as she always did while sleeping, hair a mess, mouth open, limbs sprawled across the bed as if they hadn’t been sharing it for the past few years. Even now, his heart still fluttered for her like it did the moment he discovered who she was on Sakaar.

 

He tried many time to express his gratitude for her, and every time words failed to perfectly capture how much she meant to him. It usually started with him tripping over his words, and ending with her laughing as she pressed her lips to his.

 

Just like every other morning, Thor left out his prosthetic. These days he only wore it when Rocket came to visit, he wouldn’t want his friend thinking him thankless. One eye was enough to rule Asgard in the past, now was no different. The man in the mirror was starting to look more like the Allfather, and for that he was grateful.

 

Thor was dressed modestly as he left for the day, a stark contrast on the opulent cape and gilded armor he wore in the past. Now his go-to outfit consisted of faded jeans and a tattered sweater. Perhaps such clothes would be fitting on the old Asgard, but here, the king didn’t spend his days in the throne room, or even have one for that matter. Sometimes it amazed how much he’d changed in the last five years, how different he had become and how much he had learned. More days than not, he thought of the crown prince, waiting to be given his father’s throne, as a different person entirely.

 

The prince couldn’t fish, couldn’t plant crops, nor could he build a house with his bare hands. That prince from so many years ago would have paled when faced with the tragedy his people had survived. Thor smirked when he thought of this. He’d like to think his father and mother would be proud of him. Maybe even his brother too.

 

As he walked towards the docks he gave the occasional nod to the citizens he passed by. The act was almost muscle memory for him, the only difference being the crown prince was going through the motions, doing what was expected of him. The King of New Asgard however, knew each one of his people by name.  No longer was he served by them, now he worked with them, shoulder to shoulder. He liked it better this way.

 

After checking in with the fisherman, Thor made his way into the forest, his ax at his side. Stormbreaker, originally forged as a weapon for war, a weapon to kill, was now used a tool to enrich the lives of his people. Thor would never forget the first tree he fell with it, the first home he built in New Asgard. The most recent home he built was the one he and Brunnhilde had shared for the last four years.

 

He spent the first year in New Asgard convincing her he was worthy of her attentions.

 

It was here in the forest, he spent most of his days. Alone with this thoughts, his guilt. He  was cutting down trees when he got word of his friends arriving.

 

His stomach twisted at the thought of seeing them. Not because he didn’t care for his friends any longer, but because seeing them meant coming face to face with the failure he’d spent the last five years trying to make up for.

 

 

Thor knew what they were coming to ask him before they even opened their mouths. He said he needed a night to think it over, and he would let them know by the morning.

 

He managed to keep himself busy for most of the night to distract him from the decision he had to make. But by the end of it, he found himself staring into the mirror in his bathroom. He was so zoned out, he didn’t notice Brunnhilde come up behind him.

 

“You know you’re the person in the mirror, right?” she mused.

 

He only cocked a brow at her question.

 

“Mirror Thor isn’t going to make the choice for you, your Majesty.”

 

Thor only chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in front of him and dropping his chin to her shoulder.

 

“I remember a time when I would have paid millions of credits to get you to shut up, and now you’re uncharacteristically silent. What gives?” She elbowed him in the ribs for emphasis.

 

Thor pressed a kiss to her shoulder, taking the time to choose his words wisely before he spoke. “When I think of the hardest things I’ve faced through my life, my father dying, Asgard being destroyed, losing my best friend and my brother, having to create a new home for my people out of nothing, I was only able to succeed with you by my side.”

 

His eye met hers in the mirror to find a coy smile on her lips.

 

“If you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll take your place,” she turned in his arms to face him, “it isn’t working.”

 

“Not even a little?”

 

Brunnhilde scoffed and shook her head, her eyes playful.

 

“So what are you going to do?” she placed her hands on his biceps, rubbing slow circles into his tired muscles.

 

“I don’t know. I’m not the man I was five years ago,” he closed his eye, surrendering to her touch.

 

“Hmm,” she ran her tongue along the inside of her lower lip. “Stay here, keep your eye closed.”

 

Thor opened his eye in confusion only to be met by a flick between his brows. She wasn’t kidding. He closed his good eye again and waited for her to come back into the bathroom. A few moments later, she returned, dragging in a stool from the kitchen.

 

“Sit.”

 

He complied.

 

“Five years ago, you dragged your sorry ass in here,” she started running her fingers through his hair and he felt all of the tension drain from his shoulders, “Whining about that big purple asshole. An asshole you killed, if I remember correctly.”

 

He chuckled at that. Brunnhilde had a way of making all of his problems melt away with just her words.

 

“A killed a weakened man. Who was being held down by at least three others. They’re talking about fighting him when he’s at his full strength. I’m not strong to take him down anymore.” He mumbled that last part.

 

“Oh, you mean _this?”_ she grabbed the extra bit of pudge that he’d taken on over the years.

 

The thick ropes of muscle were still there, just buried under the consequences of nights spent drinking Midgaurdian beer that had far more carbs than his body was used to. While a cask of ale back home was more than enough to give him a decent buzz, it took at least a dozen kegs of the swill to make him even a little tipsy.

 

“I’m told it’s called a ‘dad bod’ and many women find it alluring. You happened to be one of them, if _I_ remember correctly,” he couldn’t help the sing-song way he threw her words back at her.

 

The fingers that were threaded in his hair gave a sharp tug as she chuckled, “I’m known for my bad taste. What’s your excuse?”

 

He opened his mouth to reply, but it died on his lips and turned into a smile. Brunnhilde had a way of leaving him speechless.

 

“So,” he heard the _snip_ of scissors but didn’t feel any hair fall from his head, “what are you going to do?”

 

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

 

“All right then,” it felt like she was braiding his hair, “what would your father tell you to do? What would Heimdall?”

 

Thor blanched at that. He opened his eye to find her staring back at him in the mirror, there was no playfulness in her eyes.

 

“He died protecting you, making sure you would have a fighting chance against Thanos. Don’t let his sacrifice be for nothing.” There was an edge to her voice, one that could have been mistaken for malice if they didn’t know her.

 

But Thor did. And he knew it came from nothing but love for him, and love for his people. Their people.

 

It was silent for a bit before he spoke.

 

“Perhaps I’d better pack so I can leave by first light,” he huffed.

 

“And look!” her fingers coiled around the small braid she’d woven in his hair, similar to the one he had years ago when they first met.

 

He glanced at her in the mirror, noticing the odd lock of her hair that was shorter than the rest. It was now woven in with his own.

 

“I’ll be with you the whole time.”


End file.
